User blog:SleepyDragonSushi/Trish Una
Rome, Italy, 1:10 PM, 4 years after the events of Vento Aureo Amidst the bustling and humid streets of the former Roman capital, a young woman with sunglasses and a wide hat sat by her lonesome at a table located outside of a coffee shop. Dressed in a pink and yellow patterned summer dress and taking casual sips of latte, the woman seemed like any other, just enjoying another sunny day in the country of Italy. Several bystanders and walker-bys halted a little bit to gawk at the woman, but they would be shooed away when her masked eyes met theirs. Why would they do such a thing, you may ask? Well, they wanted to see if this woman was really who she was! The famed pop-star, Trish Una! Indeed, this woman was, in fact, Trish Una; she was spending a day at Rome, although it was not for coffee and to enjoy the nice, sunny weather. Rather, she was within the former Roman capital to pay respects ro friends who had passed away a long time ago, 4 years to be exact. She had planned to do this on her own, not wanting to bother her friends with such an excursion. For a long time, she kept watch on her schedule, waiting for the perfect opportunity to take a break off from her career. Eyeing the hulking Coliseum with a melancholy gaze, Trish stood up from her chair, pulling out and leaving some money from her small, leather purse onto the table as a waiter approached. She didn't stop for idle chit-chat, making her way over to one of the many entrances of the colossal monument. Just as Trish had requested before she even stepped foot on Rome's airport, the attendees and overlords of the Coliseum had kept the historical grounds empty and desolate, having extra attendees and guardians situated around in order to halt those pesky tour groups as well as any possible paparazzi. This is much credited to the surge of fame gained from her rise as a pop-star. However, as Trish crossed the street and progressed towards an entrance, a couple of those bothersome reporters and photographers emerged from behind one of the many tour groups that were stopped dead in their tracks. Noticing this, two of the guardians walked away from their assigned posts and towards the paparazzi, their hands subconsiously wandering to the handles of their taser guns. Trish had noticed as well and picked up her pace as nonchalantly as humanly possible while evading eye contact with the interlopers. "Sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to stop. The Coliseum is closed today." Trish heard one of the guardians say. "Then who is she huh? Kinda weird to just see one person entering it if it's supposed to be closed!" One of the paparazzi said, followed by an audibly forceful shove. His companion followed suit, pushing past the other guardian and getting annoyingly closer to Trish. "Miss Una! I'd like to ask some questio-" Without pause, the reporter was suddenly knocked back a good distance, much to the shock of others. Unbeknownst to them, Trish's Stand, Spice Girl, had emerged and gave the peeving paparazzi an uppercut to the jaw, done so without the need to command it manually. Trish smiled as she stepped through a metal bar and finally entered the vacant Coliseum, away from any prying eyes. It smelled of history, which was very musky and dusty. However, it wasn't the smell, that bothered Trish. Rather, it was the increased disheartening feeling that haunted the pop-star. For you see, a tragic battle occurred in the very grounds of the ancient monument; a battle in which many of her closest and only friends at the time perished at the hands of her now deceased villainous father and a Stand gone berserk. Though she didn't wan to admit out loud, Trish had felt helpless against her father and his Stand, the infamous and disturbing King Crimson. And while her father eventually suffered a horrible fate from Giorno Giovanna, the loss and pain she had felt, still lingered even to this day. She walked atop some steps leading to the area where two of her friends had fallen. Her Stand emerged once more, out of protective instinct, and hovered close to the pink-haired young woman. coming to the very spot where she, her friends and her father did battle, Trish knelt down, removing her hat and sunglasses and setting down on the ground beside her. Her Stand purposefully opened her purse and brought out three orchids; one black, one red and one white, symbolizing her now deceased friends. Trish calmly pluched the exotic flowers out of her Stand's hands and placed them down in a neat line on the ground in front of her. "Leone. Narancia. Bruno. I hope you all feel joyful in the afterlife... And I wish you a farewell. One that was long overdue for too long." Trish delicately spoke. One whole hour was spent in an eased silence... Rome, Italy, 2:20 PM Trish stood up, still gazing at the flowers laid out before her. A moment passed before she turned tail and walked away. The orchids rustled from a faint breeze. Exiting the Coliseum, Trish approached the entrance she had entered in and was stopped by a guardian. "I'm sorry, Miss Una, but it seems that they have discovered your presence." The guardian told her. Trish glanced behind the guardian and saw many of his compatriots standing in front of the entrance. They were covered from head-to-toe in heavy armour and wielded riot shields in one hand and shotguns in the other. She sighed in exasperation, irritated greatly by the gathering crowd of paparazzi lined up in front of the Coliseum. "I, in behalf of the Coliseum staff, apologize dearly." The guardian said with a slight bow. "It's alright. This isn't the first time this has happened.: Trish uttered with a shake of her head. "I bet so. Anyways, we can call a helicopter or a limo to come pick you up, if you want." The guardian said. It dawned on Trish what she should do in a situation like this. "Actually, do you have any extra uniforms and armour?" 30 minutes later The unrelenting crowd of paparazzi backed off a bit when three gaurdians began making their way past them. Strangely, only two of the guardians were armed and the other one was also smaller than the others. They managed to move out of the vrowd and surfaced on a busy, but less crowded street. The guardians took a turn to the right, walking along the pavement until they reached the entrance of a small, modest hotel. They entered the building and neared the staircase in the left of the recipient's table. The smaller guardian took three steps up and then turned to face the others. "Thanks for this." Trish nodded as she unclasped the straps of her riot gear's helmet. "No problem, Miss Una. I trust that you'll be okay here?" One of the guardians asked and Trish nodded. "I'll return the armour when the excitement dies down." She told them and the guardians concurred. A moment later and they walked out of the hotel and returned to help their comrades back at the Coliseum. Trish strode into her room, closing the door behind her and locking it shut. A few minutes later and she was free from the bulky riot gear, which she neatly piled piece-by-piece atop a table. She clothed herself in her bathrobe and laid on the bed where a window was placed nearby. She gazed up blankly at teh ceiling above, her mind recalling the events that had occured that tragic day. A single tear ran down her left cheek. 4 hours later A loud knock on the door stirred the pop-star. She turned to her left, not pleased by the abrupt awakening. "I'm trying to sleep!" Even with those words said, Trish's eyes snapped opened and she sat up on her bed, realizing that she had unknowingly fallen asleep while distant-eyeingly staring up at the ceiling. "Wow, Trish. Didn't know you were such a big sleeper." A familiar, smooth voice echoed into her room. "That, I can agree on." Another familiar voice spoke, this one rather sharp with a gruff tone. Trish rushed of bed and opened the door, revealing two of her closest friends. "Giorno? Mista?" Said people smirked. The two gangsters were both pulled into a big hug by Trish, although Guido Mista was pushed away sooner than Giorno. "You still smell, Mista." Trish sarcastically told him, much to the gun-toting man's shock. "Wait, I do?" He bgean sniffing his armpits while Trish and Giorno giggled. "So, what are you doing here?" She asked the blond. "Well, when we heard you had arrived here, we decided to pay a visit." You should get dressed, we're going out to dinner." Trish jumped up and down in delight before reentering her room to change clothes. "You can stop sniffing yourself, Mista." Giorno tapped the gunslinger on the shoulder, who glanced to him in confusion. "Huh?" 19 hours later At a fancy restaurant, Giorno, Mista and Trish sat around a wide table. A waiter hovered close by, ready to take their orders. Trish was dressed in the same clothes she worn long ago, for nostalgia's sake and because it was really comfortable. Observing out the window and watching the rain tap lazily on the glass, Trish listened as Mista gave out the orders. "Oh, and no peppers on the pizzas. I don't like it spicy." Mista told the waiter; the subservient young man nodded and moved back to the kitchen to give the chef the orders."Hey Trish." The young woman snapped her head to Giorno. "Hm?" As she replied, Trish noticed the blond held a more serious face than usual. "Me and Mista have been wanting to ask you this, but do you know-" "Do you know about something called the 'Midnight Channel'?" Mista interrupted Giorno, though the latter didn't seem to mind. "The what channel"? Trish asked with a puzzled expression. "The Midnight Channel. Apparently, it's a television channel that, as it's name implies, is only active during the hour of midnight and if it's raining." Giorno answered, taking a sip of his water. "No, why?" Trish leaned forward, her interest piqued by this mysterious channel, her eyes displaying a look of slight befuddlement. "Well..." Mista leaned in closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Apparently, this 'Midnight Channel' allows you to see a person you'll encounter in the future!" Trish was taken aback by this, her suspicion growing. "Wait, really?" She asked aloud and her friend nodded. "Where did you hear this from?" She questioned. "Just some rumours that have been running through our ranks." Giorno responded. Trish leaned in and whispered. "Are you sure this isn't the work of a new Stand?" "That's why we brought it to you." Giorno began. "Have you ever been attacked during the night, Trish?" She shook her head; Giorno and Mista glacned to each other with concern. "Well, no matter what, we have to investigate it. Just in case." Mista said, crossing his arms and leaning back on his chair. "Later. Pizza's here." Trish grinned and motioned her head to the waiter, whose arms were lined with trays of Italian cooking. Rome, Italy, 11:55 PM After an eventful night of reuniting and reminiscing, Trish, along with her friends returned to her hotel room. They sat in front of the television set by her bed. Mista eyed the clock as it sluggishly ticked away to the midnight hour. "Come on, go faster time!" Mista complained, before being shushed by Trish. He tapped his foot impatiently on the floor, his anxiety gradually increasing. Meanwhile, rain rapped on the window of the room and thunder boomed in the night sky. "We should ready ourselves. Anything can happen." Giorno muttered and his Stand, Gold Experience, emerged behind him. Spice Girl appeared while Mista unholstered his trademark revolver and held it by his side. The clock ticked 12:00 AM and the TV suddenly buzzed to life, grey and erratic static running rampant on the screen. "So it's true." Giorno acknowledged with a nod. "But is it a Stand?" Mista inquired and aimed his revolver at the TV. "Here, I'll check." Trish stood up and took a couple of steps towards the TV, her friends monitoring it in the event of something drastic occurring. She hunched down and held her hand out to touch the screen. Instead of tapping on glass, her fingers submerged into the screen as if it were water, casuing Trish to yelp and jumped back in surprise. "What happened!?" Mista, alarmed, stated. "M-My hand... went inside the TV!" Trish exclaimed in disbelief. Confused, Giorno got up, walked to the back of the TV and inspected it. "Went inside the TV? Trish, the TV doesn't seem to be hollow. What do you mean?" He glanced from behind the TV to Trish for an answer. She shrugged lightly in response, her face just as confused as he was. "Hmm. Maybe if I take a closer look..." She faltered when the television static waved away long enough for Trish to see a faint image of a blue robe, a tall and pointy hat and yellow, glowing eyes staring back at her. "What the heck was that?" She blurted out loud and approached the TV again. "The heck was what?" Mista, who had been distracted by a black cat that had suddenly emerged on the outside of the window, looked to the pink-haired young woman just in time to see a couple of hands made of the same static located in the TV grab Trish by the shoulders. "Ah! What the-Ahhh!!!" She wasn't given time to properly finish her sentence as the hands of static roughly pulled her into the TV, vanishing along with the pop-star. The TV shut off on it's own afterwards, much to Mista's dismay. "Trish!!" He rushed over to the TV and started slamming his hands down on it. Giorno had been attempting to disassemble the television set when Trish's out of the blue cry of surprise, followed by Mista's own shocked cry and banging on the set prompted the gangster to peek his head up. "What happened?!" He questioned, walking from behind th TV set and to Mista's side. "She got pulled into the TV!" Mista responded without diverting his attention away from the electronic. "Pulled by what?" Giorno asked, bending down and studying the TV closer and more diligently. "I don't know!" Mista answered back and an arguement erupted not soon afterwards. All the while, the black cat from outside watched on, it's lips curling up into a wickedly unnatural grin. It's eyes glowed a ghastly gold. Meanwhile... Trish's fearful screaming resounded the entire time she spent falling down the rabbit hole, the pure white background completely encompassing her vision. After several, surely timeless moments of aimless falling passed by, the white background was replaced by the view of a night sky. "What the-Ow!" Trish groaned from the hard landing she experienced, arching hher back and rubbing it as it ached. As far as her eyes could see from her grounded position, her new surrondings were bore a resemblance to Rome; buildings aligned on either side of her and light posts illuminating the dark streets. The pink-haired young woman staggered up, clutching her back and scouting the new environment all around her. "W-Where am I? What is this place?!" She wondered audibly, the sense of dread and loneliness creeping up on her. Unanticipatedly, an unknown vocie declared something in her head, causing Trish's Stand to come forth beside her. "Trish Una! Welcome to the P-2 Grand Prix!" 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